Of Thorns
by LadyExcalibur2010
Summary: Edward Cullen chased a bigger dream and left his small town life. When that life begins to turn to ashes and regret, can the memory of a humbler dream heal him? Happily ever afters are for lesser men. For Edward, there is only the hope of redemption.
1. Chapter 1

I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.

_**Author's Note: If you happened to read "The Bigger They Are" this isn't that kind of story. This one is dark and explores the idea of redemption and forgiveness and consequences. Being forgiven does not necessarily mean finding happiness, nor does it mean that the consequences of our actions are voided. Sometimes it's about the suffering and the lessons we learn from it – and it is that suffering and pain that makes us better people. This isn't a light or fluffy story. And it might not be the type of story you're looking for. That's okay. No hard feelings. My mother says that sometimes I just need to indulge in my Irish, angsty side. Perhaps she's right. Anyway, I'm almost done writing the last chapter of this story, so there will be no delays in posting. It is six chapters long with an epilogue that I might just include with the last chapter. Sometimes the ending that is right isn't necessarily a happy one.**_

**Of Thorns**

**Chapter 1: No Longer in Service**

"_**I'm a bad boy because I don't even miss her.**_

_**I'm a bad boy for breaking her heart…"**_

_**Free Fallin' by Tom Petty **_

The man jerks in his sleep, still fast in the grip of his dream._ The_ dream. She is perched above him, her breasts bouncing gently as she rides him. Her smile is tender and loving as she gazes down on him.

"Edward," she whispers and his heart still remembers her voice. It is unforgettable. On the day he dies, he will remember her voice. He will know it. "I love you so much."

He wants to tell her the simple truth that has both defined and destroyed his life.

He opens his mouth to speak those words. Those simple, sacred words. "I love-" She puts her fingers over his lips, stopping the sounds he wants to say. As she always does. Her smile fades, leaving only sorrow in her lovely, familiar face.

"No lies," she murmurs, her tone pleading with him. "Please…no lies. I can't bear it when you lie to me."

He pauses and then nods. He knows the words are not a lie. He knows the only lie is the life he lives. But for her, he can remain silent. So he does. He thrusts up into her, his body saying what she won't let his words express.

He feels his orgasm closing in on him, relentless and undeniable. She demands that from him; he is helpless to stop it. He wants to stop it because he knows once he finds his pleasure, he will lose her. Again. It is always the same. First joy, then loss. The highest high, the lowest low. Redemption and damnation.

"Bella!" he gasps, holding tightly to her hips and she moves faster. Faster. He is going to die from the sensations that wash over him. Then she throws her head back and calls out his name and it is the sweetest sound he has ever heard. It is enough to make him tumble over the edge.

She shudders and he trembles, both from his pleasure and the knowledge of what is about to happen.

She leans down and kisses his cheek, tenderly. It is a good-bye and they both know it. He tries to hold her, but she disappears and he is left with his spent cock flopping uselessly on his belly, still moist with her heat and his own seed.

He closes his eyes in despair. She's slipped from his grasp…as she always does.

But he will not remember the dream.

He never does.

**~OT~**

I didn't wake up so much as regain consciousness. That's how it usually worked. I no longer knew what genuine sleep felt like. Instead, I passed out, tumbled into the black abyss and that was that. It was easier that way, less messy. I was all about making things easy these days. Anything else was just too much effort.

I blinked up at the ceiling, but it took me a few minutes to recognize it as my own. That happened more than it should probably. But what did it really matter? My place, someone else's… It was all the same really. I was still lost no matter where I was. I didn't really mind. I found a sort of odd comfort in the feeling of perpetual wandering.

Fuck… I rubbed my hands over my face but it didn't help me feel more human at all. It just made me feel…disconnected. Then I felt something soft and warm shift at my side. Big brown eyes opened wide and she smiled at me.

I fought the urge to shove her out of my bed. _Wrong brown eyes, too light, no depth, there was really nothing significant there_…

The thought flashed through my head before I could stop it. Before I totally lost my shit, she closed her eyes and mumbled, going back to sleep, or maybe passing out again. Who knew? Who cared? As long as she didn't fucking overdose and die in my bed. The publicity would be horrendous. A part of me knew I should have been horrified at my callousness, but mostly I didn't give a shit that I didn't give a shit.

Then something stirred on my other side. I turned to see blond hair tumbling over my pillows. Right… I kind of remembered now. I vaguely remembered getting drunk – really drunk. And then I had wrapped up my evening with a little weed and coke. It had been pretty much a typical Tuesday night. Well actually, I had topped it off with the two women in my bed.

Again, nothing out of the ordinary.

There was a time when I would have at least attempted to remember their names, but now I didn't even try. They were interchangeable, disposable. Hell, I could probably replace _myself_ in my life with some other self-absorbed prick and no would notice the difference. Shit, that was edging dangerous toward self-pity and self-pity would mean I cared.

Enough.

I eased out of the bed and heaved a sigh of relief when neither of the women woke up. I'd throw them out later, but right now I needed a little hair of the dog that had chewed me up into little pieces and barfed me out on the expensive carpet. Luckily, there was always lots of booze –and drugs - in my house. There was always lots of _everything_ in my house… I stumbled over a broken table. I wanted to be angry about it, but the truth was I really didn't give a fuck about anything I owned. If it broke, I'd buy another one. If I lost it, I'd get something better.

Having money gave me the freedom not give a flying fuck.

As I lit up a joint and sucked in a little bit of I-don't-give-a-damn, I wondered why I had brought the brunette home. What fevered, damaged part of my brain had thought that was a good idea? Usually I avoided brunettes like the plague they were. She had, however briefly or inaccurately, reminded me of_ her_. That alone should have been enough for me to shove her off of my lap. Dark hair stirred up dangerous memories, forbidden thoughts and longings. As always, thoughts of her caused a pang of something that resembled shame to run through me. Who knew I still had even a part of my conscience left?

I'd have to get rid of _that_ immediately. That sort of shit could ruin me. It was the one luxury that I _couldn't_ afford. It was excess baggage, an unnecessary complication. My life was complicated enough. Killing myself was taking far longer than I had hoped. Of course, I was taking the long and winding road, lacking the balls to go straight for the prize. There were times when I longed for the courage to simply pull a trigger or take a flying leap off a cliff somewhere. Hell, I'd settle for driving my car into a wall. It might be messy, but it would be over. There would at least be peace in _over_.

I closed my eyes and decided to let the memories come. I was already hurting. Why not just go for broke and embrace the agony? There was something freeing in it, something dark and destructive that called out to the shadows inside of me. I wanted to lose myself in that cold embrace. I _hungered_ for destruction. I craved it, chased it.

One day I would find it and the final crash would be both glorious and complete – a personal little Hiroshima. Or Armageddon. Maybe I was thinking too small. Planetary destruction seemed more the ticket.

The pain was not just mental. The older I got the higher the physical price I paid for my slow self-destruction. The toll on my body was accumulating. Flesh and bone reminded me that I was not indestructible or immortal. For that I was grateful. If I couldn't die, how could I end the pain? I was too much of a coward to just smash the hourglass of my days, so instead I watched as the grains trickled down, shaking it every now and then to speed up the process. Slowly…slowly…one day I'd push too far and the last grain would slip through and the pain would finally stop.

I wasn't about to quit the process; I just knew that come morning I would hate myself as my body protested my abuse. Well, hate myself _more_. It was pretty much a full time occupation. I was good at it. Practically a virtuoso by now and I was committed to my craft.

I liked it that way. If you can't despise yourself then who _can_ you despise?

Lucky me, I could even pinpoint the exact moment in time I'd started to hate myself – and with good reason. It had been outside a concert hall. We'd just played a show and we were fresh off the high of the crowd, not to mention a few well chosen pharmaceuticals. I was fucking stoked, in more ways than one. Back at the hotel I had a little hottie waiting for me. She was small and blond and had a mouth that would make Ron Jeremy weep with joy, or at least that's what Sim had told me. He would know; she had blown him in the tour bus three weeks ago. After I let her suck me off with that glorious mouth, I planned to bend her over the couch and fuck her. I was in the mood to claim her ass, just as a little variety. After_ that_, I would kick her out. I wouldn't ask her name. I wouldn't even pretend to want her number. I would just be done with her. I would come inside of her – one way or the other - and then kick her _out_.

I had a full agenda planned.

Then I had looked over at the crowd of screaming girls and I had seen _her_. Bella. A girl from a dream I had once had when I pretended that I was something better than what I was. Like all dreams, she wasn't supposed to be here, in the _now_. While I was awake. She belonged irrevocably to the land of lost fantasies and things that were no longer possible.

It was a shock to see her there. Our eyes met and she smiled and I knew in that instant that she still thought I was the nice guy she'd dated all through high school. Her sweetness and goodness shone like a beacon on her pretty face. She was that reassuring glow in the coalmine, a lighthouse in the storm.

But I neither wanted nor needed to be saved. I had set my course and I intended to see it through. I'd rather have a short and spectacular life than a long and insignificant one.

Just like that, I remembered that she was nothing more than a flashing sign that said "Small town sucker!" I felt sorry for her; I felt smothered. She was a pitiful reminder of what I might have become if I hadn't gotten out of there. I couldn't let her get close. She would ruin everything; suck me back into the currents of the life I had left behind.

So I let my eyes slip away from hers as if I hadn't seen her. She_ knew_ I had. Just as I knew that she knew. But like always, she let it go and moved away, not even bothering to give me a look of reproach. It was almost like she was the one who had broken _my_ heart, not the other way around. But we both knew the truth.

I was the one who had done the breaking. By the time I turned around to make sure she was gone, I had fallen victim to the memory of what I had done to break her.

Typically, I hadn't even had the balls to just end things with her. No, not me. That would have been the _decent_ thing to do, but so much messier – for me at least. So I just stopped calling, hoping she would get the message sooner rather than later. I was still capable of guilt in those days. Talk about a useless emotion. I was in my first year of college and I had found a band to jam with to relax. Music was my saving grace.

And one day it would kill me. I could hardly wait.

We got some local gigs and I had discovered that girls_ really_ liked musicians. I fucked around and pretended there wasn't a sweet, brown-eyed girl waiting for me in my shitty little hometown. I acted like she wasn't sitting at home, being good and being faithful while I was being neither of those things.

The more I fucked around the more I realized that I wasn't worthy of her, so the more I fucked around. It was a vicious cycle of betrayal and desperation. I told myself that it was better for Bella that way. I wasn't good enough for her; I had always known that. I was just proving my own point now. I didn't want to face the scene that would surely ensue when I told her I didn't want to see her anymore. And what if she forgave me? Her grace would be my undoing. So I took the easy way out and hoped that time and distance would do the job for me. It did.

Bella had always been smart and she got the picture. After a few weeks, she stopped leaving messages on my phone. A few months later, she graduated and moved away to college, or at least that's what Alice told me. By that time my band had started to make it. We had had the outrageous good fortune to open for a band whose original opening act had come down with the flu. Their bad luck was our good fortune. That band we opened for made it big and they didn't forget us. The fucking flu had changed our lives.

Soon we had a recording deal and I had a new phone and phone number because I was so fucking important and Bella wouldn't have been able to leave a message even she wanted to. And it was good to be me, so easy to forget small town girls with big brown eyes and trusting hearts. Before I knew it, our band was the next big thing and my parents and sister were moving to LA to be near me. All of my ties with Forks were severed. I didn't have the sense to be ashamed of my relief.

It had been seven years since I left Forks, more than five since I'd seen Bella and almost six since I heard her voice.

For some reason, though, she was weighing on my mind today. Maybe it was the pair of brown eyes – the _wrong_ eyes, a small voice inside my head reminded me – that were in my bed. Or maybe I was just… tired.

I was so fucking tired of it all. The drugs, the booze, and hell even the women had been blurring into each other for years now. I was tired of the fights with my band mates. I was sick of not having any privacy, of feeling like a fucking prisoner in my own home. I was sick of feeling sick, tired of being tired.

My phone was in my hand before I realized what I intended to do with it. My fingers were punching in the numbers that by some miracle I had never forgotten even after all of the shit I had done to my brain. Somehow, I needed to hear her voice. I had a funny feeling that it just might heal me somehow. I didn't want to be healed, but maybe I _needed_ to be. I was too fucked up to dispute the logic of that little argument.

I knew it was selfish, but I never pretended to be anything but an egotistical, self-centered bastard. It was my nature, the way I was wired. I just had the oddest feeling that if I could hear her voice, something inside of me, whatever small bit of goodness that was left in me, might be roused back to life. It would pull a Lazarus and somehow I might be all right. I might even feel like a human again, instead of this soulless monster I had somehow allowed myself to become.

"_The number you have reached is no longer in service. No further information is available about_-"

I hung up.

And for the first time in years, I felt tears on my cheeks. Of course they were tears of self-pity and frustration, but I was still surprised that I was capable of them at all.

What the fuck should I do now?


	2. Chapter 2: The Cleansing Fire

I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.

_**Author's Note: I finished writing the final chapter, which is chapter 6. The whole story should be posted by the end of the month because I can't seem to resist tweaking and editing and... You get the picture. Thanks for reading my little angst-fest. Sometimes a girl just has to wallow, you know?**_

**Chapter 2: The Cleansing Fire**

"_**Convinced on the inside, you're so much more than me, yeah  
No there's nothing you say that can salvage the lie  
But I'm trying to keep my intentions disguised  
And now I'm deprived of my conscience and something's got to give."**_

_**Truth by Seether**_

**~OT~**

Later that day, after I threw out Dee and Dum, I pulled out my laptop and did what any semi-intelligent person did to find out information. I counted myself as at least semi-intelligent. Good old Google. First, I entered "Charles Swan, Forks, Washington." It had been the Swan residence that I had called and that number was apparently out of order. I couldn't remember Bella's old cell phone number and it probably wasn't operational either.

So…Charlie first.

I was actually surprised when his name came up without any further prompts. I hadn't imagined that old Charlie would be a World Wide Web kind of guy. But then again, getting your name on Google doesn't exactly require any effort.

"**Charles Swan, Forks Chief of Police Killed in Line of Duty"**

The headline was stark and blunt. I looked at the date. It wasn't long after I had been such a fuckwad to Bella at that concert, less than a month to be precise.

"_Way to be a total ass, Cullen…"_ I would have liked to think it would have made a difference if I could have seen what was coming for her, but in my heart, I knew I would have done exactly the same thing. Except, maybe, I would have had another girl suck me off that night, one with better skills. This realization only proved that I was, beyond a doubt, irredeemable.

The article featured a shot of Charlie in his uniform. He looked just like he had when I was dating his daughter – formidable and grim. I was honest enough to admit that he had scared the shit out of me. That's why it taken me a year to work up the courage to actually fuck Bella. I wanted to make sure he couldn't haul my ass to jail if he found out.

I wondered what he had thought when I stopped calling his daughter. Relief, as any caring father should that his daughter was being distanced from such a total shit? Or had he hated me for breaking her heart? Useless questions.

Apparently, Charlie had interrupted a robbery at a convenience store. It had wrong place/wrong time written all over it. Stupid fucking fate, a roll of the dice and a good man was dead. It was an out-of-town kid, high as a fucking kite, who just wanted some quick cash. That made me a little uncomfortable since I spent a lot of my time in that same compromised state.

"_Survived by his daughter, Isabella Marie Swan, also daughter of the late Renee Swan Dwyer.._."

So, she had lost them both. When had Renee died? How? As far as I knew, she had never tried to contact my family to let them know about Charlie or her mother. But knowing Bella, she wouldn't have. She had only contacted my family once after I stopped calling her. I hadn't had the courage to tell my family what an ass I was being, so I just sort of said we had broken up and let them fill in the gaps incorrectly and on their own. Bella called my house that one time, made polite conversation with Alice just long enough to hear that I was alive and well, and she had never called back. Even today, my family had no idea exactly_ how_ I had broken up with Bella or that I can done so be default. Basically, she had dropped out of our lives. Or I had pushed her out. The result was the same. Our families hadn't exactly moved in the same social circles, and I knew Bella would never have made a scene in front of them. So my secret was safe.

Alice was younger than me, a year younger than Bella even, so she accepted my explanation quite easily. My parents had been concerned that Bella and I were getting too serious and were too young, so they had been sort of relieved actually. Only Emmett had looked at me speculatively, as if he sensed all the dirty little secrets I was not revealing. He had always been protective of Bella, seeing her as another sister in a way. Looking back, I realized that there had started to be some strain in our relationship around that time.

When the rest of my family moved to California, Emmett had moved to the East Coast as if distancing himself from the circus that my life was becoming. I had probably talked to him twice in the last year. I remembered one of those conversations clearly, though the other was mostly lost in the haze of being completely stoned and close to blackout drunk. I had woken up to my phone buzzing with annoying persistence and had had to climb over a female body to answer it. She hadn't stirred. She had been a redhead. I think. I tended to go for the redheads and blondes these days. Emmett and I had talked briefly. My confused and mumbled responses had cut the conversation short. Emmett had little patience for my bullshit ways.

He hadn't called back since then. Funny, I hadn't really realized that until now. It hadn't bothered me. I hadn't even noticed. What did that say about me?

My family had been in California by the time Charlie died, I noted. She wouldn't have bothered them there. She probably wouldn't have known how to reach them. We had all dropped her, and she had gracefully bowed out, unwilling to hurt even those who had wounded her. Bella had never been about revenge or retaliation; she was about acceptance and forgiveness.

Guilt, hot and bitter, rose up within me. It burned me with the heat of a thousand suns. It sliced into me likes countless knives. I welcomed it. I deserved it.

The pain was soothing in a way, cleansing – like a fire that reduces everything to ash that simply blows away in the wind leaving nothing behind.

She had faced her father's death alone. I had dumped her without the courtesy of telling her or even attempting to explain. Then I had acted like she had the plague – or even worse, didn't _exist_ - outside that concert hall. How different might things have been if I had just been a fucking man and asked her to just hang out with me that night? My life had hinged on that moment and I had tipped the scales in the wrong direction. Next stop: hell. I could have chosen Bella and the redemption she represented.

But no, I had been too busy thinking about the fuck awesome blow job I was supposedly going to get. In fact, it had been mediocre at best. I hadn't been doing as many drugs then, so I remembered the indifferent efforts of her mouth on my cock. So I had shattered Bella for nothing more than apathetic sex with a stranger whose name I never bothered to learn. I'd broken the only woman I'd ever cared about for a moment of…what? I couldn't even really call it pleasure.

I took a deep breath and entered "Isabella Marie Swan" with full confidence that it wouldn't show up much beyond maybe a graduation announcement. In my imagination, she was existing somewhere, probably still pining for the man, me, who had ruined her for all men. Some sick part of me actually liked that scenario. Selfish bastard to the core. She would be like some living memorial to me. I'd never be forgotten if Bella Swan still lived.

Of course, like always, I was completely fucking wrong.

"_**Isabella Swan and Local Hero Jacob Black exchange vows."**_

So no pining for Edward Cullen; I hadn't ruined her for men after all.

I stared at the article and then scrolled down to see the accompanying picture, and for a moment there was nothing but blessed numbness and disbelief.

Then I was aware of a pain starting in my chest and radiating outward. I could hardly catch my breath. Fuck… So _this_ was pain, the real deal, the genuine article. I was familiar with the concept of hurting, but this was something new. Something sharper and more defined. A blade slipping in between the ribs rather than a weight crushing them. It was sly and sneaky. It didn't even hurt at first. It was only when I saw my life's blood staining my fingers that I realized the wound was there.

It was Bella, grinning happily as she dodged what was probably bird seed or rice or whatever the fuck they used at weddings now. She had a small bouquet of flowers in her hand, a white veil sweeping back from her long, dark hair. Her dress was beautifully simple…classic…elegant and unassuming, much like Bella herself.

I hardly recognized the lovely young woman, except… Her eyes and her smile were the same. She was looking at her…husband. And why did that word cause my heart to constrict? Their heads were both sort of ducked down, their faced turned toward each other and his arm was wrapped protectively around her waist, probably to keep her from falling. She'd always been clumsy as hell. I had found it sort of endearing until the day I realized it just pissed me off. Of course by then, pretty much everything pissed me off so maybe it was me.

She looked gorgeous, and he was in a Marine's uniform, that overdone formal shit that makes all the girls go crazy and start peeling off their panties. He even had a fucking _sword_. I looked up at the top edge and I could see where they were passing under an archway of swords.

Not only was Bella married, she had married the biggest fucking Marine I had ever seen. He towered over her by more than a foot, and I imagined that she had been wearing heels that day.

I stared at the picture for hours it seemed. They looked like they had the fucking world by the balls, ready to make a reality where ugliness and fuckheads like me had no place.

Every time I looked at them, they remained the same. It never changed. She never looked less happy; he never looked less proud. They never looked less…_perfect_. Annoyingly, heartbreakingly, mind-fuckingly perfect.

I hadn't wanted her for myself, in fact, I'd tossed her away. But to see this proof that she had found someone else and loved him took what was left of my dead, black heart and shattered it into a million pieces.

I looked around my own trashed house and I wondered what _she_ was doing at that exact moment. Was she still as happy as she had looked in that photo? Was this Jacob treating her right? _He could hardly treat her worse than you, fuckhead_. I wondered if this Jacob Black recognized what he had. I hoped he did.

God, I hoped he did.

** ~OT~**

I closed my laptop that day and I resolved to never think about Bella Swan again. After all, I had left her, and I'm sure my reasons had made sense at the time. Whatever we had shared, I had destroyed it for good that night outside of a Seattle concert hall. I had done so deliberately; crushing it, scraping it away from me like dog shit on my shoe. I had no one else to blame for the regrets that had almost choked me as I gazed at the picture of another man's wife.

That was my fault. I had learned to live with fault and guilt, mostly by ignoring them. I could do the same this time. There was nothing special about Isabella Swan. She had been an ordinary girl from a boring small town, and now she was living a small town life with her Marine. They were probably on a base in Bum Fuck Egypt now, happily making snot-nosed brats and clipping coupons, passing the time away in a crappy little house, making ordinary little people who would grow up in boring small town. They'd be living small little lives until they died and no one noticed.

Well good for her. Good for him. I was meant for bigger things, even if they weren't better.

Luckily for me, the band was starting a new album and I could throw myself into that endeavor. Though tensions seemed to be getting thick between the four of us, we were still able to put together a really good album, though recording was not as much fun as it used to be. Egos were starting to get in the way and I wondered if this would be, perhaps, our last album as a group. I tried to feel something about that, but emotions seemed to elude me, genuine ones anyway.

It was better that way, I assured myself. Emotions and feelings only got in the way. I had a job to do and I was fortunate enough to still be able to do it while still getting drunk and high. Women were a daily part of it, their faces and their names running together in an endless stream of moist, naked flesh and meaningless orgasms. I might as well have jerked off in my own hand for all the real satisfaction it brought me.

It didn't stop me.

If anything, my appetite for meaningless and empty increased. I was voracious, hungry for the next physical experience. I lost myself in whirlwind of joyless sex and chemical happiness.

I was too busy, too messed up, to realize how desperately unhappy I was, and that's the way I liked it.

** ~OT~**

I went out partying. What a shocker. I told my driver to wait for me. I wasn't technically supposed to drive right now – some unpleasantness about a revoked license - and I already knew I planned to get drunk. So to save my lawyers some time I decided to have my driver take me. Besides, the Hummer was big enough I could even fuck a girl or two in the backseat before I went home.

I was tired of having strange pussy in my bed. Most of the time they wanted to stick around. They passed out in my bed, which led to awkward conversations in the morning. They tended to get pissed when I couldn't remember their names. Usually I couldn't remember the sex either, which sometimes made me wonder why I even bothered.

But I did. It was a slow night, only one girl in the back of the Hummer. I let her blow me and then I fucked her, courtesy of Viagra. Even I needed a little help now and then, after all. I wasn't getting any fucking younger. And the booze and the drugs, well they didn't do a body good.

The little blue miracle pill. Better living through chemistry. Gotta love science.

Then I went home and collapsed into my bed, glad I had decided against bringing any strange home. I passed out, but for just a moment, I could have sworn I heard laughter...sweet, feminine laughter.

** ~OT~**

The man fell into sleep that night, tumbling into the abyss with ease. For an hour, he dozed restlessly, his hands twitching and soft cries issuing from his lips. Then she took mercy on him and visited him in his uneasy slumber. He heard her laughter before he saw her.

He felt something warm unfurl in his chest at his first sight of her.

She was there suddenly, standing in the middle of a meadow that he knew so well. IT had been their meadow, their place. Now it was sacred, the place where love had bloomed briefly and then...died.

But she was back and she was there, welcoming him.

"Edward..." she called and there had never been a sound so sweet in the world as his name falling from her lips. She gave him an impish grin and took off running, the scents of the flowers she crushed beneath her heels rising up to tantalize and tease.

"Wait!" he cried. He'd never catch her. She was too fast. He heard his breath, harsh and rasping, felt the earth hard and cool beneath his feet. On the breeze, he caught her scent and his nostrils flared like a predator on the trail.

She was laughing, running ahead of him. Every now and then she would turn and beckon him closer, her eyes bright with love and laughter. He would run faster. But never fast enough and she continued to elude him. She came to a large tree and stopped abruptly, exertion coloring her cheeks a rich and vital pink. She looked alive and happy, her laughter echoing through the small meadow.

"Took you long enough," she teased, darting behind the tree.

He laughed too, relieved that he finally had her within his grasp. It wouldn't be long now; it couldn't be. He slipped around the tree, intending to grab her and kiss her, make her pay the penalty for teasing him. He could already feel her beneath him, writhing and moving, her voice in his ear urging him on. Her submission was going to taste so sweet…

Still smiling, he moved around the tree and found…

Nothing.


	3. Chapter 3: The Beast Within

I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.

**Chapter 3: The Beast Within**

_**I've built walls,  
A fortress deep and mighty,  
That none may penetrate.  
I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain.  
It's laughter and it's loving I disdain.  
I am a rock,  
I am an island.  
"I am a Rock" by Simon and Garfunkel**_

__** ~OT~**

You know you're killing yourself with drugs and booze when rock stars tell you to "slow the fuck down."

I had hoped to banish her ghost by knowing what she was up to. Instead, I had seen the image that had damned me. I had pictured Bella in her small life. I had to admit that Bella was gone, finally and forever. Had there been some small part of my brain that had held onto the delusion that one day, somehow, I might find my way back to her and find some sort of redemption in her arms?

Apparently, there had. Because now that traitorous little part of me was in agony, screaming and ripping at insides with claws that glistened red with blood and black with self-hatred. The only way to quiet the beast for a few blissful hours was to drug him and drink him into sullen silence. Even fucking didn't help much. If anything, it made the emptiness more tangible. Fucking wasn't love. I didn't want to love. I didn't want to _be_ loved. But the ache was there. The emptiness, the abyss that opened beneath me, waiting...and hungry.

Like a toothache, I couldn't help but goad the pain, sticking my tongue in the ache and moving it around. Did it still hurt? Oh yes, and let the sweet flood of agony flow. It was like a new addiction. A better drug than the best heroin, better than sex. It was just...everything. The pain sharpened my focus, until I couldn't take it any more. And then I'd medicate it into brooding quiet and stillness. Until I craved it again. To perpetuate my pain, lest I ever forget what a total waste of breath I was, I hired a private detective. It was just one more luxury that vast wealth afforded me.

I could torture myself and not blink at the cost.

Bella and Jacob Black were now living in Nashville, Tennessee. He was no longer in the Marines, though my investigator was still trying to find out exactly when Black had left the military. Jenks didn't say why Jacob had left the Marine Corps. I didn't ask, mostly because I didn't care enough to bother. Neither of them had any current employment records listed, and the government files were too well protected for my investigator to risk hacking. As he told me, he wasn't going to jail for someone like _me_.

I had to admire his honesty. It didn't keep me from punching him, but he only laughed at me and told me he'd bill for a dozen hours extra and we'd call it even. He was a man I could understand, so our partnership worked in some dysfunctional way. At the very least, we despised each other equally.

He even hired a photographer to see if she could get any pictures. I wasn't sure if I was ready for that, but I wanted the option. I had become a stalker by proxy. Why do my own stalking when I could pay someone to do the dirty work?

The day came when the investigator called me to tell me that he had the pictures in his hands. "Do you want me to bring them to you personally or just put them in the mail?"

I thought it over for a moment. "Just mail them." I didn't want an audience in case I decided to actually look at the pictures.

I hung up and immediately regretted my decision. I called him right back. "Bring them to me," I ordered. That was the advantage of being a star. Everyone _expected_ me to be unreasonable, demanding, and mercurial. I didn't disappoint them, in fact, I delighted in it. I put a lot of effort into being an asshole.

An hour later, there was a discreet knock at the door. Everything about Jenks was discreet, even his gestures. I opened the door and grabbed for the envelope. It was fairly thick and I felt a moment of optimism.

"I did some digging on my own," Jenks explained. "Went back to her childhood." _No need, my good man, I was there for a large portion of that._

I gave him an abrupt nod.

"I figured when I heard you mention Forks that you went to school with her," Jenks mused aloud.

"Yeah, well you're obviously a fucking genius," I smirked. "Must be why I pay you the big bucks."

"My kid needs braces," Jenks shot back. "You wanna take another shot at me?" He made the offer with a grin, even helpfully raising his jaw and pointing out a sweet spot.

I smiled in spite of myself. "Nah, not today. Feeling pretty mellow," I explained. And I was, with the little help of an herbal friend.

He sniffed. "I can smell it." Then he motioned toward the manila envelope. "There's the standard stuff, yearbook pictures, some newspaper clippings, shit like that. The photographer also got close enough to get some shots of the woman and her husband." He stopped and tilted his head to study me. A note I'd never heard before came into his voice. I couldn't identify it, mostly because I had tuned such things out for years now. I suspected it might be…_disapproval_? "Sir…if you don't mind me asking… Exactly what are you planning?"

"None of your fucking business," I snapped.

He sighed and folded his hands in front of him as if in prayer. "I see…"

"Besides, what's it to you?" I frowned at him.

Jenks shrugged. "Nothing really." He frowned thoughtfully. "It's just… Well, you'll see when you look at the photos."

I was almost dying to look now, but I couldn't with his unrelenting scrutiny upon me. Fuck that. I'd look at them in private, at my leisure. I'd paid dearly for them after all – in more ways than one.

_And who is to blame for that_?

"I'm not gonna fucking kidnap her or anything," I sneered. "We used to be…friends."

_Oh yes, because friends treat each other like you treated Bella. I'd hate to see how you treated your enemies_.

"I guess all I'm saying is that they've been through enough," Jenks said after a moment's pause. "I'm former military myself, you know. Naval Intelligence," he added. I knew all of that, it was one of the reasons I'd hired him. He was wasting my time. "And just…" He heaved another sigh and shook his head. "The last thing this lady needs is some spoiled rock star drug addict pretty boy trying to mess up things for her anymore." He gestured at the photos. "You obviously had your chance with her. And I can put two and two together and figure out that you blew it. Which, I might add, doesn't surprise me in the least. But maybe you oughta just take your lumps like a man and move on. Leave the lady in peace." He squared his shoulders. "Either way, I'm done. If you want further information on her, you can contact another investigator."

I stared at him in shock. This was _Jenks_. He'd let me punch him for a few thousand dollars. I was fairly sure he would have offered his soul to the devil for the right price. Like recognized like. Birds of a feather and all that shit. I'd handed mine over for the fleeting excitement of fame. I hoped he had gotten a better deal.

"Understood," I said after a moment. I wasn't going to make any promises. Everything depended on what I found in the envelope. "Thanks."

He looked at the envelope one last time, almost as if he wished he had never given it to me or that he could snatch it out of my hands. I put it behind my back like a child. He turned, gave me one last hard look over his shoulder and walked out the door.

_Good riddance_… Like I needed his shit right now.

Impatiently, I tore it open, flipping through the pictures. The standard stuff…school shots, some more wedding photos. Those looked like they had been candids taken by a guest and perhaps posted on Facebook. That was another thing I'd have to investigate. In my confused and mostly inebriated and fucked up state, I hadn't even remembered to check there. I'd start with people we went to high school with and move on from there. Then I came to the first of the shots the hired photographer had taken.

Bella unloading groceries from a Honda that looked at least five years old. I snorted. Little lives, little people. As I studied it, I noticed that she looked tired, too thin… _What business is that of yours_?

Bella mowing the lawn. Great, the big bad Marine can't even mow the fucking lawn? What a loser! _And how many lawns have YOU mowed lately_?

The next shot hit me in the gut. Bella holding a little girl's hand. I couldn't see the kid, so I didn't know for sure she was Bella's. But the likelihood seemed high.

It got worse.

Bella and Jacob Black laughing as they sat on their front porch, their faces turned toward each other. It was a head shot mostly, just the edges of their shoulders visible in the photo. She didn't seem as tired when she was looking at him. Their eyes were locked, and a little smile tugged at her lips. _My_ smile. That was my fucking smile and she was giving it to him.

Bella and Jacob Black in their car. She was driving, he looked…thoughtful. The kid wasn't with them in either of those shots – not on the porch or in the car.

Maybe it wasn't her kid.

Then one of Bella at a playground, pushing the little girl in one of those swings that straps the kid in so they don't fall out. I could see the kid clearly now. It was definitely a little girl around two years old. Something about the kid's face was… Well, it was different…odd…unsettling. The girl was smiling widely, her dark eyes turned up to Bella, who grinned at her. Their hair was the same color, warmest brown. Something about the girl though… I studied it for a moment, while my damaged mind tried to fill in the gaps. The pieces finally fell into place.

Down's Syndrome.

Bella's daughter had Down's Syndrome. This was what Jenks had meant. She had enough on her plate. I couldn't fix that for her. No one could. There was no get out of jail free card for that one. What a cruel joke for the fates to play on a woman who would have no reason to see it coming. Bella looked happy, however, despite what logic said must be a hellish existence. I saw nothing in her smile to indicate anything but pride and love for her daughter.

That would be typical of Bella. She'd managed to love me long after I was unlovable. She had a soft spot for damaged goods. Sometimes I had to wonder how someone so naïve could exist. At least that little girl would be affectionate and giving and deserving of Bella's love. I was glad of that, for Bella's sake. She needed something to hold onto in her fucked up life.

But there was more, and Jenks had known what a asshole I was. He had warned me – warned me to leave her alone. "They've been through enough…"

I knew now why Black was out of the military. The angle of the other pictures had been deceptive. He had looked healthy and whole. That was so fucking far from the truth. This shot, of Jake in a tee-shirt and shorts and holding Bella's hand, revealed the awful reality. The healthy man I had seen in the other pictures was a lie of perspective.

Jacob Black had apparently been injured during his service – horribly injured. His right arm and leg were missing, replaced by clumsy, obviously government-issued prostheses. There was scarring on the right side of his face as well. He didn't look fucked up enough to scare little children, but the symmetry of his face was ruined. The Marine from the wedding photo was gone. He and Bella were hand in hand in this picture. He was laughing at something and Bella was looking at him sideways. The look in her eyes told me she didn't see a man who had been torn into pieces and put back together like a puzzle missing a few pieces. She saw something more than that, someone she loved. Adored, maybe.

The moment was so fucking private. I was almost ashamed. It was more intimate somehow than the most explicit porn I'd ever seen. That moment between them, it was like... I don't know, seeing inside their lives.

_Leave the lady in peace…_

Was it that simple? Could I do it? How could I not? Even I had my limits. Right?

_Right_?

** ~OT~**

I was in my living room. Bella's picture was staring back at me from the coffee table. Still so beautiful, I mused. Then I looked down at the woman who had my cock in her mouth and was working it for all she was worth. Which wasn't saying much. Her moan was overdone and when she looked up at me I had to close my eyes and pretend.

She had blue eyes.

And it was wrong.

All of it was wrong. I fucked her mouth, trying to lose myself in the sensations. I came with a stuttered moan of sounds. It sounded a little like Bella's name, but I knew that wasn't possible. When my indifferent orgasm faded, I pushed the woman's mouth away like a used tissue. She had served her purpose, now she was nothing more than trash.

To be tossed aside. Thrown away. Disposable.

Everything in my fucking life was disposable. Even me. _Especially_ me.

**~OT~**

The dream feels wrong tonight.

She is there, but separate. Her mouth smiles, but her eyes are sad. There is a veil between them. He can feel her but not really touch her. He can see her, but the image is hazy and fleeting and slipping from his grasp.

When he puts his hands on her, he senses that her body trembles from something other than desire. "Hold me," she whispers. He knows she is asking for something but she will not say the words. She needs something from him but he doesn't know what it is. He feels the knowledge dance just out of reach.

Then his flesh pierces hers and he loses his tenuous grasp on the truth. It doesn't matter. He has her now. He's inside of her. He's part of her, however briefly. It will be enough. It _has_ to be enough.

He holds her as he moves inside of her, losing himself in the sensation of her body clutching at his. The words fill his throat, threatening to spill out with his seed. As if sensing his treachery, she puts her slender fingers over his lips.

"Just fuck me," she tells him.

He wants to howl. The words are wrong...all wrong. What he does to her isn't fucking. God help him, it isn't. It's love, at the core, and the crux of it, it's love.

And that's the most dangerous thing of all.

_**Author's Note: I want to just say that Edward's thoughts on Bella's daughter are his own. I am the mother of a special needs child (well, he's an adult now, but you know what I mean) so I have some experience in how cruel people can be. **_


	4. Chapter 4: There are Always Consequences

I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.

**Author's Note: Yes, Edward is broken, cruel, and manipulative man. This remains, however, a story about redemption.**

**Chapter 4: There Are Always Consequences**

"_**No change, I can't change, I can't change, I can't change,  
but I'm here in my mold , I am here with my mold  
And I'm a million different people from one day to the next  
I can't change my mold, no, no, no, no, no."**_

_**Bittersweet Symphony by The Verve**_

** ~OT~**

I left the photographs out where I could see them. Like a man who had found religion, I _wanted_ the pain that my penance brought me. I prostrated myself on the altar of things lost. I whipped myself in the name of what might have been. What better way to suffer for what I was and what I had done than to see the proof of my greatest sin?

Even as I writhed in the grip of my newfound devotion, I couldn't help but wonder why I was suddenly thinking of her. Months, perhaps years, had passed since her big brown eyes had occupied my thoughts. It had been a lifetime since I had imagined her warm lips pressed to mine, the sound of my name leaving her lips on a whisper. For a brief time, a shining and fleeting season, I had belonged to her. And she had been mine.

Then I had tossed her away, and with her I had disposed of all that was good and worthy within me. I wondered if my parents regretted letting me be so cruel now, or if they couldn't see what was right in front of their eyes.

Emmett saw. Emmett knew. And hated me for it.

I had thought that she was purged from my inner sanctum. I had given up guilt years ago, and Bella along with it. Bella equated with guilt and shame and all of those useless feelings that held me back. All of the more noble emotions and actions had been casualties of my new life, and I was okay with that. I had paid the price knowingly and willingly.

It had taken only a pair of eyes similar to hers looking up at me from my pillow, the scent of sex heavy in the air and the floor littered with condoms, to resurrect that which I had buried. _Bella. Bella. Bella_. She was the center around which my thoughts orbited. I remembered every shitty thing I had said to her, the shattered look in her eyes when I had turned away from her as if she was a stranger.

What had I done that night? How might things have been different if I hadn't been such an incomprehensible ass?

I'd never know. Because when she had walked away, when I had_ pushed_ her away, everything that made sense in my life left with her. Everything good and decent had disappeared in an instant. I could see quite clearly that my destruction had started with that. Or rather, my _self_-destruction.

Her eyes mocked me from various vantage points. Her apparent contentment in her small, hellish world tore me into tiny pieces. How could she be happy without me? I had known when I left her that I was breaking her, and the dark part of me found some joy in thinking that pieces could never be put together again.

Yet there she was, defying my efforts.

Whole…happy…with him.

A small, locked away part of me knew that my jealousy and rage was wrong. But I had given myself up to the darkness, so I nursed my grievances and stared at her pictures with growing hatred and an increasing sense of self-pity.

There was only one thing left to do.

I must banish the ghosts. I needed to see that she still loved me, that she still missed me. I needed to see that pain in her eyes, and only then would I be appeased.

I wanted Bella to bleed for me. I wanted to suck her life dry of the joy she had dared to find without me.

She had found some measure of happiness, but I knew that could only be because my memory, the memory of what we had shared had finally faded. I could rip away that false serenity, remind her of the hold I still had on her. I _would_.

And when I saw the pain bloom afresh in her eyes, then I would leave her again. She would no longer haunt me; she could no longer mock me with her small, cheap joys.

I could go back to my darkness, content in the knowledge that I had broken her again.

My Bella…my beautifully broken Bella.

** ~OT~**

I had all of her information. It was so easy really. Too easy? Perhaps. But I had never seen the value in working hard for something. Why bother when it could come easily? To work up my courage (though why I should feel afraid I did not understand), I had found a girl with the brown eyes. For now, she would stand in as Bella's substitute, and I would control her, make her bend to my will.

She was pathetically eager to please. The more outrageous my suggestions grew, the more determined she was to please me. When even my most depraved orders were obeyed with hesitation or question, I grew tired of her. It was boring and mindless and no more satisfying than jerking off in the shower.

Finally, I just had her kneel before me and I fucked her mouth, disregarding the sounds of her distress as I shoved my cock down her throat. This was Bella's mouth around me now, Bella's lips that were swollen and red, Bella's breasts heaving with her gasping breaths.

Bella. Bella. Bella.

I came with a shout and she collapsed.

Beautifully broken indeed.

I nudged her. She gave a deep shuddering breath. Alive. Just passed out. How convenient.

Then I dismissed the woman from my thoughts. She no longer existed.

I came to a decision, began plotting my campaign to break my Bella. Like a military coup, I could not reclaim my power until my enemy was broken and defeated. I would call her first. She was still my Bella until I said otherwise. I conveniently forgot turning away from her that night. If that didn't say "We're over" then I wasn't sure what would. But I found myself wanting to taunt her…to see if I could rouse up the ghost of the old Bella who had loved me so unconditionally. I wanted to hurt her. I needed it; I wanted to share my pain.

I wanted to let the anticipation of her coming misery build. I would warn her. And she would know that she was still mine, whether I wanted her or not.

Somehow, I sensed that by hurting her, I would feel less. I was lancing a wound. So I dialed the numbers that would allow me to slip inside her defenses and bring the walls come tumbling down.

A man answered.

Funny, I hadn't expected that. Jacob Black was a cardboard cut out in my mind. He was tattered and torn and useless. I consoled myself with the thought that the explosion had stolen his ability to fuck my Bella. I had no idea if that was true, but that was what I told myself. He was half a man…literally. I laughed at the thought when my musings were at their darkest.

I savored his misery. And hers.

"Hello?" he said.

I stared at the phone for a moment, suddenly unsure. I cleared my throat. "Uh…is Bella there?"

"Yeah, sure," he said agreeably. Idiot. "Hey, Bells! Call for you!" I wondered if he would sound so casual if knew I was going to be destroying his crappy little stolen life in a few moments.

Her voice came over the line and it was just as I remembered it…sweet and slightly husky.

I hated it.

I hated _her_.

Oh how I wished that was true.

"Bella?" It felt good to say her name; I touched my lips, liking the feel of it there. It was dark and sweet and slightly bitter. I licked my lips and remembered the taste of her.

"Yes?" She sounded confused. I wondered how that could be. Surely she remembered my voice. It would haunt her dreams at night, saying all the things I had never said because I left her. The sound of her name coming from me should be enough.

"Bella, it's Edward," I said. I waited for her reaction. Would she faint? Cry? Beg me to take her back? Yes, that was the most likely scenario. She had married that Black fellow because she had been trying to move on. But a broken Marine was no substitute. She would realize that by now. That would give me my in, my ticket. Like the Trojan Horse, I would be inside the gates before she ever realized her danger.

"Edward?" She still sounded confused and it infuriated me.

"Yes, Edward Cullen." _The one who got away, sweetheart_.

"What do you want?" I had expected anger, had _wanted_ it. But her voice was curiously flat – almost as if she didn't…care. She sounded resigned…tired.

"I just wanted to see how you're doing." In all my wildest imaginings, I had not thought she would ask such a simple and mundane question. So I had no answer.

"I'm going to hang up now," Bella said softly, patiently like someone talking to a child who just doesn't quite get it. "I'm not really sure what sick game you're playing, but you can count me out."

And with that, I heard a dial tone.

I stared at the phone.

What the hell had just happened?

** ~OT~**

Two days later there was a banging on my door.

I opened the door and saw my brother's face…a split second before his fist connected with my jaw. I fell back on my butt and stared up at him.

"What…the…fuck?"

"You leave Bella alone!" He was standing over me, his fists clenched at his sides, breathing heavily. I'd never seen him look more intimidating or pissed off, and with Emmett that was saying something.

"What?" How the hell did_ he_ know?

"I said…Leave. _Bella_. Alone."

"That's none of your business" I snapped, getting to my feet.

"Wrong answer," Emmett snarled. And his fist popped up again before I could even blink. I was back on my ass and stunned as shit. "She's no longer _your_ business." He curled his lip at me. "You gave up any rights to fuck with her life when you pretended you didn't know her."

I gaped at him. How did he know this shit? Once more I got to my feet, eyeing him warily. Where the fuck had my brother gone? He was _my_ blood; shouldn't his loyalties be to _me_?

"What?" Emmett said with a sneer. "Did you think _no one_ knew what an asshole you were to her?"

"I-"

"Oh, save it," he hissed. "I don't want to hear your bullshit excuses."

"Emmett-"

"Listen, Edward, I know you think you're better than everyone else. And that's fine. I don't give a shit. You have to live with yourself and that's punishment enough as far as I'm concerned. But you need to leave Bella and her family alone. They've got enough bullshit to deal with already. You don't need to try and fuck things up any more."

"Do you mind telling me how you know so much about Bella Swan?" I asked, rubbing my jaw. Fuck, Emmett could hit hard. And he had, holding nothing back. It was perhaps the most exchange between us in years, those punches.

"Bella _Black_," he emphasized. "And I know so much because not all of us can throw people away like they were garbage."

Ouch. That hurt, mostly because it was so true. I flinched and turned away. I savored the little agony. Yes, there it was. A burn, a cut, a sting. _Hello darkness my old friend…_

"I've been in touch with Bella since just before you pulled your little stunt in Seattle. I even got her the tickets for the show. I tried to tell her that you weren't worth her time, but you know Bella." He shook his head in reluctant admiration, mixed with frustration at her stubbornness. I could appreciate both sentiments. Oh yes, I knew Bella. Or I had.

He shoved past me and went into my kitchen where he got a beer. Leaning against the counter, Emmett stared at me with distaste as I followed him. "I've always liked Bella, and just because you were an ass didn't mean I wanted her out of _my_ life."

"Did you fuck her?" Before I even finished asking the question I knew it was the wrong thing to say. Emmett's eyes narrowed.

"I ought to beat your ass again for even saying something like that, but it's nothing less than I expect from you." He shook his head. "You always _were_ a whiny little self-entitled bastard. You haven't improved with age," he added darkly. "God, you're such a shit. I'm surprised that Mom and Dad still talk to you."

"_You_ don't," I reminded him, and that was true for all intents and purposes. But I didn't care. Did I?

"For good reason," Emmett replied quietly. "You think I don't know how you treated Bella?" He snorted. "I'm not as oblivious as the rest of them seem to be."

"I-"

"You know what? I'm really sick of the sound of your voice, Edward," Emmett said in a soft, lethal tone. "So why don't you just shut the fuck up for a minute and listen. For once in your fucking miserable life, you need to realize that this isn't about _you_. There are other people in the world and they deserve to be happy too. Not everyone wants to ride the Edward Cullen express to destruction." He gave me a look full of pity and disdain. "A year and a half ago, I went to Bella when Jake was hurt. Do you even know what happened to him? A fucking roadside bomb in Iraq. Almost killed him. It was touch and go for a while and then all that fucking rehab. He's still not done. Hell, he'll never be done with getting better. It's a fucking life sentence. But he's making progress."

"You went to her?" I was as shocked by this but I could see the absolute truth of it in his eyes. Emmett had gone east and become a nurse, a career choice for which I had given him no end of shit – when we were still talking to each other. I had felt ashamed of him; ashamed of saying my _brother_ was a nurse. Now, for the first time, I wondered if he had been ashamed to say I was his brother, too.

The thought was more painful than I would have supposed.

"I was there with her at her father's funeral," Emmett told me. "Someone had to be." Bitterness dripped from every syllable.

I could do nothing more than stare at the stranger who had once been my big brother.

"And later, I met Jake and I knew that they'd hit it off, that Jake was one of the good guys and she deserved someone like him." Emmett shrugged. "So I introduced them and it clicked. He loves her, Edward. So much, even more than himself. Watching the two of them together, it…" He shook his head. "What they've got is _real_, Edward. They're in it forever, no matter what. That baby girl? She's their lives, man. She the fucking center of their universe. They've faced more in the few years they've been married than most people face their whole lives. It's just made them stronger." He closed his eyes briefly. "Seeing them…it makes me think that maybe love _is_ real and maybe one day… Well, maybe I'll find it too."

I felt my heart constrict in my chest and for a moment I wondered if the feeling would kill me. Only if I was lucky…

Emmett sighed. "Just leave them alone, Edward. If you've ever been human and capable of decency, just leave them alone." His voice was quiet now, resigned and exhausted.

"But I-"

"I?" Emmett snapped. "That's always who it's about, isn't it, Edward? It's always about Edward Cullen because no one else exists in the whole fucking world." He took a step closer, shoving his face into mine. "Let me tell you one thing, little brother. If Bella ever tells me you've bothered them again, I'll ruin that pretty face you're so fucking proud of and smile while I do it." His lips stretched into an ugly grin. "And that is something you can count on, Edward." He poked me in the chest. "So just try it…just try it once and you'll fucking realize that you can't get away with everything just because you're Edward fucking Cullen." He sneered at me. "There are consequences, Edward. There are _always _consequences."

With that, he turned and walked away.


	5. Chapter 5: Orbits Gone Astray

I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.

_**Author's Note: Yeah, I know this Edward is not a very nice guy. :p But what fun is it to always have him be the hero? Sometimes, he's not the hero. Sometimes, he's the bad guy. (Okay, cheesy and tacky, I know, but I'm feeling cheesy and tacky today!) I just enjoy making characters into my own personal Stretch Armstrong dolls, pulling and twisting and contorting just for the hell of it. My apologies. But I still had fun, not gonna lie. **_

**Chapter 5: Orbits Gone Astray**

_**Can't find another way around  
And I don't want to hear the sound, of losing what I never found.  
I shot for the sky  
I'm stuck on the ground  
So why do I try, I know I'm gonna to fall down  
I thought I could fly, so why did I drown?  
I never know why it's coming down, down, down.**_

"_**Down" by Jason Walker**_

She is laughing.

He wants to go to her. Every cell of his body cries out for her. But his feet remain rooted in the ground below. Her laughter turns into quiet weeping and he screams at the blue sky above. He watches the clouds roll in, knowing that they bring them his destruction. He can do no more than stare helplessly at them.

Suddenly he is set free and he runs to her. 

She is curled up in their meadow, her arms wrapped around herself, sobbing. He touches her cheek and her eyes fly open. Instead of throwing herself into his arms, she scrambles to her feet and backs away from him.

She gives him one last panicked look and then she runs.

And he knows there's not a chance in hell he'll ever catch her.

**~OT~**

In spite of Emmett's warning, I found myself contemplating my next step. It was beyond selfish, but that was who I was. It was cruel, but I'd never claimed to be anything but. It was wrong on every single level. And I knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that I would do it anyway.

I wanted to talk to her. I needed to know if I had imagined that note of distance and restraint in her voice. I knew she had a life now, well, if you could call it that. Her existence was small and constrained, while mine was… Mine was out of control. Mine was the opposite of small, in every destructive way possible. Even I recognized that, even if I didn't want to do anything to rein it in.

I liked the dizzying terror of not being sure if I would actually wake up in the morning. The very uncertainty of my existence gave me a sort of sick thrill. Half-life or death? Did it really matter anymore?

Then I would wake up and I would realize that I had survived another day. Odd, but that never gave me any sense of satisfaction. I kept expecting that it would, but no… There was nothing beyond a strange sense of impending – something. Every time I woke up, I was both surprised and disgruntled, as if I had lost my turn by some random toss of the dice in some cosmic game of life.

I should be _dead_. I _should_ be dead. No matter how I said it, the crux of the matter remained. I didn't deserve to breathe the oxygen I wasted with every breath.

But somehow,_ somehow_ I sensed that it would be better if I could only get Bella to listen to me. My dreams of hurting her, my wish to hear agony in her voice, had faded and left behind only the certainty that only with her forgiveness could I have any hope of…redemption? I wasn't even sure that was what I was looking for; I only knew that Bella was the only person who could offer it to me.

My fate rested in her hands. I was torn between conflicting desires. I wanted to hurt her, and yet at the same time I longed to know whatever secret she harbored that brought her such joy in such a miserable existence.

So the day came when I decided to ignore my brother's warnings and I dialed the number. "The number you have reached has been changed. No further information is available about…"

Bella had frustrated me. Again.

What was it about her that ate at me? What kind of hold could a small town girl, married to a crippled "hero" and the mother of a damaged child possibly have on me? When I stared at her pictures, it was as if I could see some secret lurking in her dark eyes. It was like there was some ancient mystery of life and happiness that only she had solved. The answers were there, in her eyes, pulling at me, tugging me into her orbit.

She was the sun and I was a helpless body – a mass of air and earth and water, destined to orbit forever. I could no more resist her call than the Earth could stop circling the sun. We were both bound into our places – forever. There would be no mercy or reprieve.

But maybe, just maybe, _Bella_ could free me. She could tell me those secrets that she kept hidden in her brown eyes and I would know. And knowing would set me free. And freedom would bring me peace.

It was all up to Bella.

I had to know. I had to be free. I had to find peace. If even the questionable solace of death was going to be denied me, then peace would have to do. Wasn't death just the ultimate peace? And if she wouldn't murmur her secrets to me, if she would not grant me that questionable mercy, then I would simply make sure that death did not elude me again.

Instead of merely courting it, I would embrace it and hold it closer to me than any woman I'd ever fucked.

There was a sense of ease in having a plan. I had to talk to her, see her. In person, she could not elude me. She would look into my eyes and I would gaze into hers and her secrets would be laid bare for me.

I booked a flight to Nashville, cursing myself as I did so. I knew I wouldn't stop me. I was being drawn inexorably toward my salvation or destruction.

I would fly incognito. No one would care about the bearded man who looked like he hadn't slept in a few months. I would be just another scruffy, skinny nobody. I had a plan. The plan soothed me. I felt in control again. I felt smug at my impending success. Nothing could stop me. Bella had always been helpless against me when I laid the charm on thick and sweet. I knew how to work her. I always had. She had told me as much. In some ways, Bella would always belong to me. I was her first. You never forget your first.

I hadn't, as much as I had wanted to, I hadn't. I never would. Her mark was on me as if she'd branded me.

I would succeed. There was no other option. And by the time Emmett found out that I had defied him, I would already possess Bella's secrets and his anger wouldn't matter anymore. I would have already won.

I rented a car with a license that had a fake name on it. My haggard appearance kept anyone from recognizing me. I was anonymous in my pain and desperation. I found the little house with no difficulty. I had been sober for two whole days. It was a record for me. My head ached but at least I could drive. I shouldn't, my license having been lost long ago. But I _could_, and that was all that mattered. Besides, I had lawyers who could make anything inconvenient simply go away.

Sobriety was painful. I couldn't stop thinking. I couldn't stop _remembering_. I didn't want to remember the Bella-that-had-been. So I would see the Bella-that-was and I would be freed from the curse of her memory. I would take her mysteries as my own, and her defeat, the invasion of her small little life would make mine expand and there would be nothing but good things ahead. It was not right that she should find contentment in her burdened life when I, who had so much to live for, found life such a chore. It was wrong. It was insufferable.

I pulled into her driveway and I took a deep breath. _This is it, Cullen._ _This is your moment. This is the moment when you reclaim the life you've built for yourself_.

My life was shit and I knew it.

But tomorrow, well tomorrow would bring something different. I could feel it. I could practically smell the change in the air. Years from now, when I looked back on these moments that I sat in a rental car in Bella Swan's driveway, I would realize that my life before this day and after this day were two completely different lives – led by different men.

Peace and the secret to contentment waited in that little house. Those things should be mine and they within reach at long last.

I got out of the car and walked up the driveway to the little porch. Children's toys littered the tiny porch and a wreath of fake flowers decorated the door. This was a tiny little house with little lives being lived out inside of it.

I was bigger than this.

I was better than this.

But I wanted it all. And Bella would free me. When she did, I could finally start living the life for which I'd given up so much.

I took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

_He_ opened the door and all those thoughts I had had about his naïveté and ignorance danced away at the expression in his face. His eyes went from friendly and open to hostile and shuttered in a moment. In an instant, he was the warrior, the man who had been to hell and back and was fully prepared to go back there in defense of his family. "What do you want?" he asked coldly.

"I want to talk to Bella," I said, shoving my hands in my pockets.

"Yeah, that ain't happening, asshole." I heard a movement behind him and then there was Bella, her face pale and drawn as she peered around Black's arm.

She put a hand on his arm, his real one, and leaned into him. "It's all right, Jake," she murmured. "This won't take long." Her eyes flickered toward me. "Not long at all," she added.

As always, she was both fearless and honest.

Their eyes met and some unspoken communication flickered between them lightning fast. I was the outsider, the unwanted and uninvited intruder. I swallowed hard and every intention I had had suddenly became smoke and drifted up to disappear into a blue sky. So much for bad intentions…

The reality of Bella rocked the foundation on which I stood.

She opened the door wider and I could see reluctance radiating in Black's big, broken body. It was a little humiliating to admit, but I wasn't entirely sure I could take him, one arm and leg or not. That fucker was huge. His clumsy prosthetics and awkward appearance aside, he practically vibrated with fury. His remaining arm looked large and powerful; his hand seemed big enough to crush my throat with very little effort on his part. It would be a mistake to think of this man as incapable of protecting what was his. Protecting Bella and their daughter.

He eyed me like I was a predator who had wandered into their midst and he subtly angled his body between us. I heard noises from the kitchen and I guessed their daughter was in there doing whatever it was that kids her age did.

Jacob Black moved in sync with Bella, their motions oddly in tune with each other. It was as if she had matched her gait to his awkward one. Her former gracelessness had given way to a gentle, fluid way of moving that somehow complemented his ungainly and off-kilter movements. They fit with each other, and it only took a few moments in their presence to recognize that.

I hated it.

Jacob went to the kitchen table and unstrapped and plucked a tiny body up out of a high chair, his hands – one flesh, one metal – oddly assured in their movements. Then the child was facing me and I found myself enthralled and spellbound.

She had dark eyes, almond-shaped and lovely, but not even close to empty as I had expected, instead they were wise in their own way. They were both ancient and innocent at the same time. I felt as if there was something hidden deep within those guileless eyes, something that would forever elude someone like me. The oddly compelling eyes blinked at me. The little girl smiled widely and reached for my face. Black jerked her away before she could touch me, like I was dirty.

I couldn't take my eyes from that little face. It was imperfect, cruelly so, yet somehow, for all her differences, the kid was...beautiful. Pure. That was it. She was pure. Innocent and sweet in a way that I don't think I'd ever been, in a way most people have never even _known_. It was...humbling. Odd. Terrifying. Reassuring, but I had no idea why.

"She's beautiful," I whispered to Bella. I wasn't sure why I spoke those words, but I noticed that something in Bella softened. Her eyes were warm and full of love as she watched her daughter's face retreating, tucked snugly over her husband's broad shoulder.

"Yes she is," Bella agreed. Then her expression grew grim and she turned to look at me. "Why are you here, Edward?"

"I..." I held out my hands. "I don't really know, to be honest."

Her eyes didn't waver. "We're ancient history, Edward. I'm not really sure what purpose might be served by coming here. Are you trying to see if you can still hurt me?" Her expression was knowing and disdainful.

I had been. That had _been_ my purpose. And it had felt good to have a purpose again, sick and twisted as it was. But that was lost now, evaporated in the face of an innocent girl who had been limited before she was even born. How odd that some kid would make me...fuck. Make me_ feel_.

Once again, I was cut loose and cast adrift. It had only ever been this girl who had once loved me, this woman who hated me, who had ever anchored me to earth. Then I had cut the ties between us and soared up, up, up...never giving a thought to what would happen when the journey was over.

Bella's shoulders slumped and she leaned on the cheap kitchen counter. "Edward, I know that Emmett warned you to stay away from me. _I_ asked you to stay away. I think you owe me that at least. Just leave me alone. Leave_ us_ alone."

I stared at her. Her small little life suited her. In spite of her burdens, she glowed. She looked like one of those Madonnas I had seen in countless paintings from a different time, a woman made beautiful by some otherworldly sense of what really matters. It was somehow no surprise that Bella had been destined for an imperfect existence that would suit her so damned perfectly.

Gone was the girl I had known. In her place was a woman who had faced the darkness head on and come out the victor. Where did she get her strength? Did she get it from a place that only the_ good_ knew about? If that was the case, I would never be granted that mercy. Perhaps Bella, out of the goodness of her heart, would give some to me, in the interest of what we had once shared.

"You're right," I finally said. "I owe you that at least. But we both know I'm a selfish asshole, so here I am."

Bella's head hung down for a moment and then she turned, leaning against the counter. I could hear Jacob's deep voice talking to the little girl.

_That might have been your daughter,_ an insidious voice inside my head reminded me. _It could have been. If you hadn't fucked it all up_. But someone like me wasn't worthy of that little girl, much less the incredible woman who stood before me.

"I need-" I began.

Bella's dark eyes stopped that thought. I didn't have the right to talk about what I wanted or needed. But I was going to anyway. I was going to be selfish because it was what I knew. I didn't have an empathetic bone in my miserable body.

I swallowed hard. "I admit, I came to hurt you," I finally said. "I wanted you to hurt like I hurt."

"Why?" Her voice was gentle and that threw me.

To my horror, I felt the tears sliding down my cheeks. Traitorous, treacherous tears. Angrily, I wiped at them and sniffled like a terrified boy. "Because it's all shit, Bella. My whole fucking life...it's shit...and I don't know how to make it better."

"Why, Edward?"

"Why is it shit?" I asked.

Her smile was sad and knowing. "I know why your life is shit, Edward. I only have to look at you to figure that out. You suffer from an excess of yourself." Her eyes were wise and tender, but remote all the same. She had moved beyond me, that much was abundantly clear. "Why did you want to hurt me? Why did you think that hurting me would make your shitty life look better?"

This was it. This was my moment of truth. Like that time outside that concert hall in Seattle, I had to chance to change the course of my life. I had a chance to do something different.

The words that spilled out of me were not planned; they were not what I intended at all. But they were perhaps the most honest words I'd spoken in years...in my life.

"Because I wanted you to know that I lied to myself when I said I didn't love you. I lied. I lied with every phone call I didn't make, with every letter I didn't write. I lied every time I fucked another woman and desperately pretended it wasn't_ you _I was thinking of." The shame became a mantle I couldn't discard, an oppressive weight that made itself a part of me. I raised my eyes to hers. "I wanted to tell you that I had lied...and that I'm...I'm sorry."

How long had it been since I said those words? Something in my chest unclenched.

"I'm sorry, too, Edward," Bella said softly. "I'm sorry you lied. I'm sorry you were such a coward that you couldn't break my heart in one clean, quick break. I'm sorry that I let myself ache for you, that I almost let the most wonderful man in the world get away from me because I was too fucking hung up on you..." She closed her eyes. "But mostly, I'm sorry that it doesn't change a damned thing. I'm sorry for you, because even after everything that happened, I hate seeing you in pain."

Hope soared in my heart until I got a good look at her eyes.

"I'm not lying to you Edward when I tell you that your lies destroyed everything we had," she said in a low voice. "It's gone. All of that is a memory that belongs to another person." She gestured toward the little living room where I heard the deep rumble of a broken man's voice and the answering, lilting voice of an imperfect child who had somehow changed something inside of me with a glance. It wasn't enough, and it was too late, but it was the truth. "They're my life now, Edward and that's how I want it – that's how I'll _always_ want it."

"I don't believe you," I said. The darkness roused up again in me. I wanted to break her and use her broken pieces to give myself new life, to suck her dry of all the happiness and hope that she had no right to feel. I clenched my jaw and gave into the rage; I let it sweep through me with its cleansing agony. The fury was an old and trusted friend. "You can't prefer this shitty little life to what we had."

And then she laughed.


	6. Chapter 6: Change of Heart

I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.

_**Author's Note: Well, this is it. I did go ahead and combine the last chapter and the epilogue. It just seemed right as these two chapters really need to be read together. Hopefully, you will feel that Edward has something redeemable inside of him still. I think he does. Thank you all for your support of this rather odd little story. I feel better now having written it, LOL.**_

**Chapter 6: Change of Heart**

"_**Just hear me out**_

If it's not perfect I'll perfect it till my heart explodes." 

_**Get Stoned by Hinder**_

** ~OT~**

Her laughter was terrible. It rocked through me like an earthquake, shattering my foundation, splintering the world beneath me.

She shook her head. "God, Emmett tried to tell me," she muttered. "He tried to warn me."

Of course it would be Emmett. He had always seen through me, the golden boy, the chosen one, the son who made good. He saw me for what I was. Emmett, the brother I had despised for his simplicity, was the one who saw the clearest. Nothing could be hidden from those friendly blue eyes, no lie remained undetected, no sin unknown.

Just as Emmett could see the darkness in me, he had seen the light in Bella.

Emmett knew her in a way I never would, even though I'd been inside of her body. Emmett had been given a glimpse into her heart – her soul. He knew the woman she was now.

"He told me he saw you after..." I jerked my head toward the living room. "After _that _happened."

"You mean after my husband got blown up?" Bella's voice was a challenge that still echoed with remembered pain and fear. But her eyes were steady. She had already faced that nightmare and come out the victor.

The words were blunt and raw. "Yes." That was all I was capable of saying. Once more, I was humbled by her, by the mere fact of her existence.

"Yes," Bella said after a long pause. "Emmett came to see me." She gave a little laugh that sent cool fingers up my spine. "Emmett was the only Cullen who didn't seem to think I was disposable." She tilted her head and studied me. "Does that make him the fool?" Her smile was bitter. "Or you?"

"Me," I said immediately. "I'm sorry, Bella. My head..." I grabbed at my skull, wishing I could rip out the ugliness that lived there, thrived there. I was darkness. Bella was light. I was everything bad in the world, while Bella was good. There could be no more obvious dichotomy than us.

There was no _us_.

I had to remember that.

But could there be again? In my arrogance, I dismissed the man and child waiting in the other room.

"But I get it now, Bella, I get it," I explained desperately, only showing just how much I didn't get it at all. "I fucked it up. I know that. But I see that now, and I want to make it up to you."

She just gaped at me. "Excuse me?"

"I want to make it up to you," I said, holding out my hands and offering her the world. "I can take care of you." I could take her away from this shitty little house in a Nashville suburb. I could make sure that the little girl with the compelling eyes wanted for nothing. I was broken, but not as badly as Jacob Black. I had four limbs that worked, a body that could be strong again.

For her.

Always for her.

I had just been too stupid to realize it. Instead of destruction, as I had come here for, maybe I was going to find redemption and forgiveness. And healing.

And Bella. Oh God, Bella just might be mine again. I could be a better person with her in my life. I knew I could. I _would_.

"What?" she asked again, as if I was speaking in a language she had trouble comprehending. "What did you say?"

I approached her but stopped just short of touching her. Everything about her screamed "Don't touch!" I could feel both my excitement and frustration building. "I could take care of you...both of you. You and your little girl." I lowered my voice to keep Black from hearing. "You don't have to live like this, Bella."

Then she laughed again, laughed so hard that tears streamed down her cheeks. "Oh my God! You're so far removed from reality that I could almost feel sorry for you if it wasn't so fucking infuriating." Then the laughter fled and in its place was pity. "Edward...you...me...us...that's been over for so long that it's like we never existed." Her smile was sad then and she shook her head. "You need to figure yourself out, Edward. I'm not part of the equation anymore. What we had – God, that's just...it's just gone, Edward. Gone. Over. Finished. I can't tell you how finished _we_ are."

"It doesn't have to be," I said urgently. "I could make your life better than this." I gestured around the crappy little kitchen with its cheap appliances and cracked linoleum floor. "I can give you so much more."

"God! Don't you get it?" she said between clenched teeth. "That's what love is. It's sticking around when things suck. It's having faith that one day things will get better and knowing that even if it doesn't, what you have is good and right and makes you happy." She shook her head. "I feel sorry for you, Edward, because I _can_… I've already learned the lesson that you'll never comprehend. You just don't _get_ it. You probably never will."

"Bella, I-"

"Edward, do you know the best thing that ever happened to me?" Her voice was soft. But it reverberated through me like the call of an angel's trumpet, sounding out destruction and the end of the world.

I shook my head.

"It was that night in Seattle, when you just looked through me and pretended I didn't exist."

That wasn't the answer I had been expecting.

"It almost killed me, but it…it set me free," she explained. "It helped me break free of your spell. And when I finally stopped hurting I was ready to live again…and to love. It took a while, but when I finally put my heart back together again, I found a man who was worthy of it." Her smile was breathtaking. "It's beautiful, Edward, to love and be loved with everything you have. To know that they'll always feel the same way about me, that what we have is _real_. Even when I'm sitting beside Jake's hospital bed or facing the fact that my daughter may never be able to write her own name, I know how lucky I am."

I couldn't speak past the lump in my throat.

"I'm lucky because I love them and they love me…completely. We don't hold anything back from each other," Bella continued. "And that's what keeps us going. That's something you can't understand, Edward, because for you, love is all about taking from the other person and trying to hold back of yourself so that you don't feel vulnerable. You want to hold onto the power by not giving yourself. But that's what love is; it's sharing your weaknesses and trusting the other person not to use it against you. It's putting it all out there, all the good and bad and just plain weird. It's giving that person the ultimate power over you, but trusting that they'll never use it against you."

I could only stare at her.

Her shoulder slumped. "So just go back to your life, Edward. We don't need you." She met my eyes. "And I don't want you. I already _have_ what I want, and you're not it."

I stared at her for what seemed an eternity. I looked for any sign of hesitation or weakness, but there was none. Bella was happy, and she intended to remain that way. Improbably, impossibly happy with her small little life.

With Jacob, the Incredible Broken Man and Macy, the Wise Innocent.

I was superfluous. A hindrance.

She looked at me without a shred of doubt or hesitation and told me that I needed to exit her life for once and always. She took that last golden thread that stretched between us and snipped it out of existence.

She set me free.

Whatever came later, I was free. Free to fall or soar. Free to fail or succeed. Free to hate or love. It was all up to me now.

I leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek and that was the last time I touched Bella Swan.

** ~OT~**

Bella taught me many things, but foremost among those lessons was this: Love existed.

Love might be a fairy tale, a myth to some. But she showed me that love, real love, genuine forever kind of love, really did exist.

It lived inside the beautiful exhausted woman who told me that I was not what she wanted. It existed inside the broken man who wore his love for her on his empty sleeve. It thrived in their little girl, who was perfect in her imperfection.

What they shared was real love – the kind that was a rock – a foundation upon which entire lives were built. The kind of love that was a stone fortress that endured long after those who created it were dead and forgotten.

Bella taught me that. She showed me that. And even her rejection was sweet because, in the end, I finally got the bigger picture. I finally figured out that I was just a small piece of the puzzle and that everything else meant so much more.

I had lost her. But in doing so, I found myself.

I could work on that man; I could try to make him something worthy again.

_**Epilogue….**_

"_**I wanna write her, her name in the sky.  
I wanna free fall out into nothin'.  
Oh, I'm gonna leave this world for a while."**_

_**Free Fallin' by Tom Petty**_

__**~OT~**

I watch the changing of seasons from my window. Today, the wind is high. The leaves are fluttering madly in its wake. From behind me, I hear a soft voice call out, "Edward?"

I turn and smile. "I'm fine," I assure him. He studies me for a moment and then nods his acceptance. Emmett has been my constant companion for the past year since my condition worsened. I have needed his help. The thing I like about Emmett is that he doesn't hover, and once he has seen that I don't need anything, he leaves me.

Once more, I am alone.

I prefer it that way. I have much to contemplate. There are many things I never took the time to understand and now I find I have many hours to fill. Two days after I left Bella's house, I woke up in a hospital. And Emmett was there with me. He tried to comfort me while I cried, he held my hand when the doctor gave me the news. He didn't rearrange my "pretty face" even though I had contacted Bella. Instead, he just talked to me. And he listened, really listened. He heard my confession of every foul deed I had ever committed, every unkind or cruel thing I had done. We were there for a long time.

In the end, he told me that it didn't have to keep going on like that. He said he'd be there for me if I wanted to change things

So I went back to a house that was suddenly a home.

Emmett came with me. Now he looks after me. He uprooted his life and takes care of me in all things. I'm writing some of the best music of my life and he has promised me that when the time comes, he will see that it "does the most good" and we talk about my hopes for what it might accomplish. It is my secret, my legacy, and Emmett stands guard over it like an avenging angel.

I sleep now, real sleep, though it cannot heal me. My wounds are beyond the simple balm of slumber. But I like to sleep now; I no longer fight it, struggling against the truths I know wait for me there.

I dream at night. I remember my dreams. I suffer them gladly. If there is such thing as painful joy, then that is what they are. The knife is sharp and the blade cuts deep, but it is the lancing of a wound. In my dreams, all of my mistakes are made right and I am given a chance to reclaim the happiness I once threw away. It is mine only in my dreams, but that is enough. It is more than I deserve.

Four years ago, when Bella told me about the best thing that had ever happened to her, I had been shattered. I had already been broken before I ever arrived on her doorstep. She had broken me again with her simple declaration. But like a bone that has been set incorrectly, it had taken that shattering to set me right again. I've been clean of drugs and booze since that day. The memories are harder to put away, so I've stopped trying. I find in them some solace as I contemplate the man I am today. I am not a good man yet, but I am better.

Like all things, however, there is a price to pay. Forgiveness of our sins does not negate the consequences of them. I do not begrudge the debt.

Emmett doesn't laugh when I tell him that rock stars are supposed to die young if they want their legend to endure. It pains him, for now, broken and dying, I am a brother he is proud to claim. Odd how that happens. I sit here in this chair waiting for a phone call to tell me that the doctors have found a healthy heart to replace the one I damaged with my stupidity.

Perhaps today that call will come. Perhaps not. It no longer matters. I am at peace whether the call comes or not.

If the call never comes I will leave this world knowing three things. First, I will be sure that I was finally able to love someone more than myself. I have learned the lesson that Bella's grace and mercy taught me. Second that there is, at this moment, a little girl playing in a small, neat house in Nashville and she will be loved and looked after for the rest of her life. I have made sure of that, providing for her financially because in my heart she will always represent the promise of what might have been. That is my secret. And third…Bella Swan is the best thing that ever happened to me, whether she is mine or not.

I have rediscovered some truths that I allowed to slip away, and some that I pushed away and burnt to ash. Like the phoenix, however, they would not be vanquished forever. These truths hurt, but like any fanatic, I gather the pain to me with a smile. I am burning at a stake to which I hold onto with all my strength. I am the burning man.

I have learned that sometimes having money helps you to give a shit. And to care means to hurt. And to hurt is part of living. I embrace the pain now as eagerly as I once did the darkness. This is a healthy pain, a price paid for sins committed. I suffer gladly, grateful only that I have been granted the mercy of the lesson. I have finally realized that there are things out there bigger than myself, bigger than any single one of us, and that in the end, all we have is each other. That connection is all that makes life worth enduring. We are bound to each other in ways we cannot even imagine.

Sometimes, love simply is, and cannot be requited but it's still there, still sacred. Just because they can't love you back, doesn't mean that love can't save you.

It saved me in every way that really matters.

**~OT~**

The dream is different tonight, in a good way. The man stands at the edge of a familiar meadow. The sunlight is warmer, the birds' songs are more beautiful, and the flowers are more fragrant. If the man believed in paradise, he would think he has arrived. She stands at the far edge of the meadow and waves him forward.

This time, when he steps onto the grass and moves toward her, she doesn't move away. She doesn't run or taunt or tease. She stands...and waits. Every step takes him closer to her.

He is almost to her when he realizes that, for the first time, they are not alone. At her side, two little boys play. One has dark hair and green eyes, the other is a redhead, and his eyes are Bella's.

It is at that moment that he realizes he is standing in the world that might have been his.

When his hands clasp hers, her warmth seeps into him and that last tiny core of ice melts and gives way. It exists no longer. Her lips are soft and giving beneath his kiss. When he pulls back, her eyes are luminous.

"It took you long enough," she chides gently. She gestures towards the little boys who are staring up at him with a warmth and adoration he has never known before. "We've been waiting." She smiles and brushes her fingers over his cheek, and he is surprised to see that her hand is damp when she pulls it away. "Don't cry, love," she tells him. "We would have waited forever."

Then she takes his hand and he follows her blindly. He will go wherever she leads him. He would follow her to the ends of the earth and off the edge into the abyss if she told him to. The boys laugh and play and run ahead and then dart back. The dark-haired one takes his hand and he is surprised at the strength in the little hand.

At last, they stop and he stares.

The sun is not quite setting. It seems to hover there in the sky for their private delight and amusement. "It's amazing, isn't it?"

"_You're_ amazing," he whispers.

She gives him a grin and then leans in to chastely press her lips against his. It is the most arousing kiss he's ever had. He brushes back her hair and smiles. "I love you," he whispers, unable to hold back the words any longer.

She lets him say those words; in fact she seems to welcome them if the light that blooms in her eyes is any indication. Gently, she cradles his face and in the distance he hears the boys laughing. "I love you, too." She sighs and her hand is warm and forever around his. "You can stay here you know...always." She looks into his eyes. "You don't have to go back. The choice is yours."

He leans into her. "I'd like that. I'd like that very much."

Her smile is tender as she nods. "Good."

For just a moment, he looks over his shoulder toward the dark side of the meadow. He realizes that he could still return there if he wanted. In this moment, he is being given a choice – to return or to stay here in this magical place where all is made right.

Even as he looks, he knows that he won't go back there. There is no need. He is done with that existence. He has made his peace. If this is a dream, then he is content to remain here and dream.

Her arm is warm and solid around him and he smiles. He doesn't need that world anymore. This is where he's meant to be. Forever.

Together, they turn and watch the sun that would never set in the land of might-have-beens.


End file.
